


Fire Rides In

by owlpockets



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, F/F, Fix-It, Friendship, Medical Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlpockets/pseuds/owlpockets
Summary: Eventually Crowe would have to find a way to get the shrapnel out of her belly so she could heal properly, but unconsciousness was starting to pull her under. She dragged herself the last few feet out of the debris before the gray mist at the edges of her vision overtook her.Then Crowe woke up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I fully intended this to be a one-shot for Femslash Feburary and then it...got bigger. It's really a story about Crowe more than a romance, because I adore her and want to dig in to her life and relationships more than the movie shows. Obvs she shouldn't have died before we really got to know her.

The alarm clock read 5 AM. Crowe let out a long, low whine while she dug around in the bed for her phone. After the first few unsuccessful swipes she rubbed her eyes and peered at the dimmed screen while she deliberately selected recents and called Nyx. “Yell at me to get up.”

Nyx didn't respond right away and when he did it was distant but awake. “No? This is your own damn fault.”

“Ass. See you in twenty.” She she jammed her finger onto the end call button. Seventeen minutes of laying in bed and two minutes of dressing later, she went out the front door. Yesterday’s t-shirt hung loose over her chest and she had barely swished her mouth out with toothpaste, but she was upright and not late for work. Crowe considered that a win for the day. She put her earbuds in and gathered her hair in an elastic band as she jogged the block and a half to meet Nyx outside his building.

To Crowe, this was an unholy hour, but she was on gate watch for a week as punishment for getting into a drunken fight with a city guard while off-duty. It was only day three and she was already contemplating desertion just so she could go back to bed. Nyx was waiting for her outside, hood up and hands jammed into the pockets of his sweatshirt; he hadn’t slept again and it showed. Crowe said nothing, preferring the noise of her music than trying to make idle conversation. There was nothing worth wasting breath over so early in the morning.

They started the run at an easy pace, then headed for the steepest set of stairs they could find, and ultimately finished at the Citadel in a dead sprint. Crowe’s chest was heaving for air at the end and she thought she might have hurled if there was actually anything in her stomach. She shoved loose tendrils of sweaty hair off her face and yanked her earbuds out to wind the cord around her phone. “I think…we might be getting…too old for that.”

Nyx replied with a weak grunt from where he was leaning against the cold stone of the building, eyes closed and arms dangling limply. “No, I think we just drink too much.”

Which was exactly how Crowe had landed in this mess in the first place, but she compartmentalized that thought for examination in the future. Or maybe never. She moved away from the wall and walked slowly in the direction of the training grounds, not especially wanting to walk through the building to the locker rooms looking like she just crawled out of the sewer while that one Crownsguard on third shift near the stairs silently judged her life choices. With little goading she could be in the mood for another fight, one that might actually get her in real trouble.

Making a beeline for the showers, Crowe shed her sweaty clothes on the way, happily turning on three different sprayers in the empty room to use herself. This was the only perk of first shift, the locker rooms were almost always sparsely populated.

Crowe got out of the shower, put on her towel, and starting squeezing the water out of her wet hair as she headed for the lockers, passing Axis on the way. He averted his eyes with a mumbled “good morning” and Crowe ignored him. After so many years of using the men’s showers, she thought he would have gotten used to her by now, and she would never feel anything but pity for his wife if he was that scared of boobs.

Nyx, for once, was not already in uniform, but was laying on the bench downing aspirin with a canned energy drink. Crowe pushed his legs out of the way so she could sit down. “Wow, when _was_ the last time you slept?”

“Never.”

“Ha ha.” Crowe rolled her eyes in the small mirror she kept inside her locker. She glanced at the magazine cut-out of the Oracle she had taped up last week and started braiding her hair to mimic the photograph. She wasn’t terribly good at it yet, but she tried anyway. “No, seriously.”

Nyx didn’t respond and Crowe let it go since she was running short on time after an indulgently long shower to get her essential pre-shift coffee. She thought maybe she had enough change stashed away for a truly large cup on the way to the gate, but she would have to hurry.

“Is that who I think it is?”

Startled out of her focus, Crowe's hand twitched and she dropped her hair tie in a puddle on the floor. “Fuck. What? _No._ What?”

“What was that now?” Nyx teased.

“You just gave me a fucking heart attack.” She punched him in the shoulder as a distraction while unsuccessfully trying to flip the locker closed. The sleeve of her jacket was hanging out and the door bounced back open instead, revealing the Oracle’s gently smiling face again. Crowe kind of wanted to laugh it off, kind of wanted to crawl in a hole and never come out.

Nyx sounded amused as he leaned over her shoulder for a better look. “Isn't she a little out of your league?”

“That's not what your mom said last night.” Crowe dug out a set of underwear she thought was probably clean and her uniform, which definitely was not, before slamming the door closed with more force than necessary.

“No way, she was too busy shouting at me to remind you to go out and find decent Galadhan girlfriend before all the good ones are taken. Because you never answer the phone when she calls.” Nyx shot back at her as he headed for the showers, “Also, your mom jokes went out of style ten years ago.”

“Eat a dick.” Crowe threw a balled up sock at him with poor accuracy, then realized her error and went to chase after it with a groan. Dressing quickly, she was nearly out the door by the time she realized she had forgotten her gloves and dashed back to her locker to grab them. She glanced at her watch and realized she was out of of time to get her coffee. The day was officially ruined though it had barely started.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon that Selena Ulric was Crowe’s best and only female friend when Crowe first wandered into Galahd and came in off the streets. Crowe might have had a baby lesbian crush on her, but was forever too scared of fucking things up to act on it.

Crowe’s stint at gate watch was cut short by back-to-back missions that had her out in the field for weeks. She was exhausted, fueled by spite and protein bars alone. By the end, for every yard of ground they gained, the Empire pushed them back two. Her anger and frustration was a hurricane of fire, uncontrollable to the point where she knew she was making a mistake, that allies were going to get hurt, herself included, but she could not stop herself. Then _the daemon_ appeared. It was the daemon to end all daemons, as tall as a skyscraper and at least three times as wide.

Distantly, Crowe could hear explosions, but the nauseous, empty feeling of stasis hollowed her out until she could do nothing but stare helplessly as the battle was lost, the shouts of the injured and dying echoing in her ears, the daemon lumbering ever forward. Someone was pleading with her to move, pulling her back by the arm, but she fought the guidance, unwilling to give up her bird’s eye view of the field. She choked on her own screams for help watching Libertus, badly injured, and Nyx trying to get away from all three heads of a hideously mutated dog.

Crowe would decide after that day that she hated dogs.

The rest of the night was a grayish blur, and Crowe was pretty sure she blacked out in the truck on the way back to the city, awakened only when someone administered an ether to her slumped body. She didn’t feel better.

_

“Hey, you look dead on your feet. Go home, I’ll stay.”

Crowe snapped out of her doze, already feeling the effects on her neck of trying to rest crouched in a cramped hospital waiting room. Nyx was standing in front of her, reaching both hands down to help her up from where she was squatting in the corner. Her legs burned as she stood from staying in that position too long.

“I am really fucking tired.” Nyx’s hands were still on her arms, and he pulled her forward for a hug when Crowe dropped her head on his shoulder. “That sucked,” she mumbled.

“But we would have gone down a lot harder if it wasn’t for you,” Nyx said in her ear.

Crowe couldn’t respond; there was a numbness settling in her chest though her throat felt painfully tight. She really was well past fatigue at that point, and the physical strain of the battles and stasis were settling into a deep ache in her bones. If she slept straight through for a week, it would probably not be enough. How many of her brothers and sisters had she lost in the matter of a few minutes? How many might have been _her fault_? Nyx was wrong, she had made things worse with her piss poor impulse control, but she kept that to herself.

“Call me if….” _If anyone dies,_ Crowe was about to say, but she trailed off instead. There was no need to speak it out loud.

“Yeah,” Nyx answered, unwinding his arms from her shoulders.

Crowe indulged her exhaustion by calling a cab and balled up her jacket against the window to use as a makeshift pillow. She zoned out and perhaps even fell asleep, since the next thing she remembered was the driver worriedly saying “ma’am, we’ve arrived” over and over again. He waved her off when she tried to hand him a fistful of gil, and Crowe realized she probably looked just as rough as she felt.

The smell of rotten food hit her nose the moment she stepped into her apartment. Throwing down her bag with more force than necessary, Crowe swore and stomped into the kitchenette, heaving the old containers of takeout into a trash bag while trying not to look at them too closely or breathe too much. She put the bag outside and opened the windows, before finally changing out of her uniform and falling into bed.

Crowe woke up gasping, cold sweat soaking the neck of her t-shirt and her hair in her mouth. She’d left the bedroom window open and the clammy air was permeating the room so much that she immediately started shivering. Vivid flashes of the dream remained—fingers combing through her hair, quick and sure, a dusty late summer sunlight, leaning her head back against a soft stomach, a lovely face with the nose and eyelids burned off, fire in the distance.

On shaking legs, Crowe scrambling out of bed for the light switch, breathing hard as she looked into every corner of the room, then went to check the bathroom too. She didn’t know why. Eventually, she sat on one of the stools at her kitchenette counter, wiping her face and neck with a paper towel. The clock on her microwave read close to 7 AM and she dropped her head onto her arm. She had slept for nearly thirteen hours.

On the counter, her phone was blinking with a notification, and she eyed it sideways as if that would make the idea of checking it easier to contemplate. Eventually, Crowe took a deep breath and grabbed it, only to discover it was a low battery notice. The lack of bad news was relieving, yet her eyes prickled dangerously and she didn’t trust herself not to cry if she had to speak out loud. She unlocked the screen and opened a message thread.

 _i dreamed about s_ She paused before hitting send, and found she couldn’t bring herself to type out Selena, that would make it too real.

Nyx came back with a reply almost immediately. _Fuck_

Crowe didn’t know how to continue, feeling worse for having it out in the open. Eventually, she put her head back down and set the phone on the counter, picking out the letters with one finger, _sorry shouldnt have told you_.

_It’s okay_

There was a long pause before the next message in which Crowe rubbed furiously at her traitorous eyes, frustrated with herself for the weakness of wanting to tell someone. At least she was alone.

_Gotta take libs home but I can come over after_

_is everyone okay?_

_Yeah don’t worry_

_okay see you later_

Crowe stared at her phone for a moment longer, mind suddenly and strangely empty, then plugged it in and chugged her coffee while she turned on the shower to quickly rinse off the film of dirt and sweat making her skin itch all over. She left her hair alone, lacking the energy to successfully raise her arms to wash it, and threw on the first clean jeans and tank top that came to her hand. With how long she had been gone, there was nothing safe to eat left in the kitchen, save for an open box of cereal, which she dumped into a bowl and looked at dubiously before taking a tentative bite. It was gross and stale, but she was starving and focusing on menial tasks would keep her mind off other things. Nyx arrived before she made it halfway through the bowl.

“Hey.” Crowe held the door open with her foot and shoved another spoonful of dry cereal in her mouth.

“Hey. I took your trash out. That old bat next door was sitting outside staring at it like she was gonna to call the landlord.” 

“Astrals, I wish she would die already.” Crowe rolled her eyes hard enough that it hurt a little bit. “Thanks.”

Nyx huffed a laugh and dropped onto the couch. “Would it cheer you up to know that Tredd got shot in the ass and needed three stitches?”

Crowe paused in pulling a beer out of the fridge and considered. Superficially, yes, she could imagine at least a week of tasteless jokes, but she still hadn’t shaken the images from the dream out of her head. “Yes, yes it would,” she said instead, and handed the bottle to Nyx after popping the top. “How’s Libertus?”

“Shattered tibia, high as a kite, refusing to get a wheelchair,” Nyx listed off tiredly. He took a few sips of beer before continuing. “He’s such a fucking idiot.”

“And yet you’re the one getting punished.”

Nyx shrugged and Crowe already knew the answer, they had had this argument before—it was better that than someone ending up dead.

Nyx fell asleep within minutes of sitting down, beer bottle tipping dangerously and head lolled to the side in what looked like a supremely uncomfortable position, but Crowe ultimately decided it was probably better to leave him be or risk getting punched in the face by accident. She sat on the other end with her coffee and started idly scrolling through the news on her phone, settling on a puff piece—“Lady Lunafreya talks wedding cake, dog training, and gladiator sandals in this exclusive interview.” Lunafreya looked serene and lovely in the photo with two dogs against a backdrop of an elegant room. It was probably her house, Crowe thought. There was another photo halfway down the page of the Oracle crouching down while the dark colored dog (Umbra, according to the caption) shook her hand. Her life seemed like a beautiful myth to Crowe, though she knew logically that could not be entirely true since Tenebrae was tightly controlled by the Imperial government. Still, she looked around at the clutter and dust of her tiny apartment, with her tools streaking the floor with motor oil and Nyx passed out in his dirty uniform next to her, then tried to imagine herself in the graceful Tenebraean palace, asking the Oracle for a dance.


End file.
